


A Shift In Perspective

by Dragonlingdar



Category: Octopath Traveler (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Police, Alternate Universe - Shapeshifters, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Drama & Romance, Established Relationship, F/F, Family Drama, Lifemates - Freeform, M/M, Mutual Pining, Politics
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-16
Updated: 2020-04-25
Packaged: 2020-06-29 08:24:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 17,934
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19826284
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dragonlingdar/pseuds/Dragonlingdar
Summary: After 35 years of being purely human, having to adapt to shifter politics was a pain.  At least he had Erhardt back.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, my name is Darlatan and I have a _problem_ with writing too many AUs. Have a trifecta of absolute bullshit that has amused me WAY more than it should. I am inflicting it upon the world _because I can_.
> 
> Additionally, nothing Octopath Traveler belongs to me.

“So, you’re, like... entirely human? _Just_ human?”

Olberic looked up from his computer and stifled a sigh. Therion was new to the department, and was true to the idiom about curiosity and cats, like every other detective he’d met. Thankfully, Olberic had over a decade of dealing with cats--mysteries and trouble drew cat shifters of all kinds to the police and military force in droves. "Domesticated" cats were always the worst offenders when it came to getting into trouble with no exit plan.

“Yes, I am  _ only _ human,” Olberic responded. “My mother hasn’t given up hope yet, though.”

“You’re not even like H’aanit?”

H’aanit was the department’s Speaker--while shifters could communicate to each other, as long as they shared a species, it was impossible for a transformed shifter to speak to a human, for the most part. Speakers were humans who  _ could _ telepathically ‘speak’ with transformed shifters.

“No,” Olberic replied.

The silence that followed Olberic’s statement spoke the question that every shifter always  _ thought _ but would never vocalize.

“I’m here  _ because  _ I’m not a shifter,” Olberic said. “Many rogue shifters and other criminals underestimate a Dud. I’m more useful than you’d think.”

Therion blinked and hummed, clearly intrigued. “Okay,” was all he said before wandering away to his desk. 

_ He'll probably do his own research and know more about me than I'm comfortable with within a few days, _ Olberic thought, sighing.

“You have that answer down to a script anymore,” H’aanit said as she walked over and leaned on his cubicle shelf once Therion was out of hearing.

Olberic shrugged. “My mom really  _ hasn't  _ given up. Being compatible with a lion is  _ extremely  _ upsetting and neither she nor the pack will ever let me be with him, but it is rare for a shifter and non-shifter to be matched."

H'aanit nodded slowly. "Just like me and Ophilia, hm?" 

"Well, you count as a shifter, since the general consensus is that Speakers have partially-activated shifter genes, so not quite."

H'aanit smiled wryly. "So I've heard. And, please, don’t refer to yourself as a Dud. It upsets Cyrus."

"It's the best way when trying to explain my situation to new recruits or transfers," Olberic said.

"Nevertheless."

"By the way, when is Cyrus supposed to return?" Olberic asked. "I thought that he and Ophilia were just going for a Walk."

Walks were search and retrieve missions. Cyrus hadn't an ounce of tact as a human, but his curiosity and playful nature--as well as his ability to somehow completely mask the fact that he was a dog shifter--made him invaluable when hunting for lost people or things. Ophilia was his handler on those missions due to her beauty and remarkable ability to play dumb and guileless, which allowed her to get into places where most people couldn’t. If all else failed, her swan form could be startling enough to let them get away unharmed.

"Don’t worry, they're fine," H'aanit said. "I got a message from Ophilia about a half an hour ago confirming their success."

"Good," Olberic said, relieved. "Are Alfyn and Primrose back from the bust yet?"

"Alfyn is in the lab running tests on the drugs right now," H'aanit responded. "Primrose is…"

"Having a  _ conversation _ with the people who were arrested and Tressa is playing the Good Cop in the interrogation," Olberic sighed. 

H'aanit hummed in acknowledgement. 

"How well do you think Therion will fit in?" Olberic asked. 

"As well as any cat ever does with our group," H'aanit said. "We have two dogs too many. Regardless of Cyrus and Alfyn's personalities, he will probably transfer within a month. You would think they would know to stop sending us  _ cats _ . Or, at least, that they would start to send us  _ big _ cats."

"Oh, yes. I can see that turning out well. Imagine a snow leopard or, gods forbid, a lion joining our team. We're more likely to end up with an insect or rodent once they finally stop sending us cats, though."

"You really think so?"

"Rats and mice can get in places many can't merely due to size, although I suppose a snake shifter would work as well."

After a pause, they both sighed. 

"We're going to keep getting cats until one sticks with us," H'aanit said.

"Indeed," Olberic agreed. "Speaking of cats, how is Linde faring?"

"She gets better each day," H'aanit responded, her voice warm. "I am getting words as responses to my questions now."

Linde was a snow leopard whose human consciousness had never resurfaced after her first shift, so H'aanit was trying to coax her back so she could at least find out  _ why _ . Sometimes the human consciousness rejected the shift, other times the person wasn't fully mentally prepared; on regrettable occasions, a shift was forced, and that mental trauma often caused the human part to go dormant. 

"I'm glad to hear that," Olberic said.

The elevator doors on the floor opened to reveal a slightly muddy, cheerful Cyrus and a bemused Ophilia.

"Another successful mission, sir!" Cyrus said as he wandered over to his desk/cubicle. He stripped as he walked and was down to his boxer-briefs when he arrived at his destination. He dumped his dirty uniform into a dedicated laundry bag and pulled a new uniform out of a drawer in his desk.

"You'll be writing the report?" Olberic asked Ophilia once she reached him. "I don’t want to have a dictionary app open on my phone the entire time I read it."

"Yes, I will. Cyrus sometimes forgets that not everyone read the dictionary out of boredom when they were 13," Ophilia agreed. "But, the short version is that we found who were looking for and she should be returned to her family soon." 

"Good," Olberic responded as H'aanit gave her girlfriend a quick kiss on the cheek, a hand resting on Ophilia's far shoulder. 

Olberic had lost his startle reflex due to spending his childhood living in a compound with 4 generations of wolf shifters, so only noticed that Tressa had climbed on him when she lightly smacked his cheek with her tiny paws and chattered at him angrily. 

Olberic gathered the squirrel shifter in his hands, put her down on the floor, and said, "I'm guessing Primrose is done?"

Tressa returned to her human form and nodded. "I made sure that they're all alive and not physically harmed, although I make no guarantees regarding their emotional state."

"Thank you," Olberic said. "I'll pay Alfyn a visit to convince him to write me the report. You can give me a summary of the interrogation, though; while I appreciate Primrose's attention to detail, I do prefer to not need to drink to make it through."

"But reports are boring," Tressa grumbled. 

"Think of it as a story instead of a report, and it will go much easier. Just no embellishing to make it a better narrative."

"Okay, I guess."

"H'aanit, can you go see what Primrose is up to?" Olberic asked. "I will go check on Alfyn and we'll report back to each other."

"Yes, sir," H'aanit said. She gave Ophilia a brief hug before walking off to speak with their peacock shifter.

Olberic stood, gave his email a final look, did a double-take, then slowly sat back down and opened the latest email that had come through. 

Their department, full of mostly mundane shifters and run by a Dud, was extremely low on the totem pole when it came to assignments and information. They usually dealt with the scraps no one else had the time or manpower for; such was why they helped with everything and anything, from murder investigations and missing person cases to security during public events in the city and traffic violations.

That he was being invited to a high-level political shindig in his capacity as the department head was both concerning and flattering. 

He read through the email twice, decided it didn’t require an immediate response, so stood back up. He walked to the elevator in the back of the room, passing a quietly muttering Tressa as she worked on her part of the report. 

_ Why the hell would I be invited when the division seems happier to ignore me? _ Olberic wondered as he rode the elevator to the floor where the more-or-less communal laboratory was located.

Alfyn was happily chattering away with his maybe-boyfriend Zeph while he worked, the laboratory otherwise empty. 

"Alfyn, please pay more attention to your work than your conversation," Olberic said as Alfyn’s hand came awfully close to a piece of delicate equipment. 

Alfyn looked up and gave him the same kind of goofy grin he often sported in his dog form. "Boss! Unlike you to come down here yourself."

"Yes, well, I wanted to check up on my team member and remind you that I do need a report on my desk within the next two days detailing your assignment and the results of your analysis," he said as he walked over.

Olberic and Zeph traded handshakes as Zeph said, "Don’t worry, sir, I supervised and he followed proper procedure and cleaned up correctly."

"Thank you," Olberic said sincerely before turning to Alfyn. "How did the assignment go in general?"

"You worry too much about us all," Alfyn said, aware enough to move important things like notes and glassware out of the way before leaning on his work station. "Can't hide anything from this nose."

“You didn’t run into much trouble?” Olberic asked. 

“We ran into some, yeah,” Alfyn admitted. “But people never expect a woman to turn into a  _ male _ peacock, nor how startling it is to have a huge fan of feathers in your face.”

Zeph chuckled as Olberic nodded. “Neither you nor she were hurt?”

“A few scrapes and I’m sure there’ll be a couple bruises, but those seagull shifters who drew the short stick and had to work with us--Mikk and Makk, right?-- were  _ really _ nice and helped a lot. Bird shifters really are overpowered.”

“Less birds, more  _ flight _ ,” Zeph said.

“Why don’t you start writing me that report while everything is fresh in your mind?” Olberic said. “I’m sure the tests will take some time and Zeph can watch them in case there are ones that are time sensitive.”

Alfyn’s expression fell slightly. “Aw, c’mon, boss, can’t it wait a little?”

“The sooner you get the unpleasant thing out the way, the sooner you can do something you  _ do _ enjoy,” Olberic pointed out. “You have a template, too, all you need to do is follow it. I don’t need color commentary to prove to central admin why we’re worth keeping around.” 

Alfyn sulked as Zeph said, “Of course, sir. We’ll get on that right away.  _ Won’t we _ , Alfyn?”

“Sure,” Alfyn grumbled and slumped on over to his assigned computer in the lab.

“Thank you, Zeph,” Olberic said. “How are things going in your work?”

The dog shifter merely shrugged and gave him a small smile. “As good as it ever goes. Forensics research is rigorous enough than neither Alfyn nor I see each other as much as we would like.”

Olberic frowned. “The rumors are true about the uptick in overdoses?”

Zeph nodded glumly. “Don’t worry about it, though, sir. I don’t mean to be rude, but I doubt that it will trickle down to you.”

“No offense taken,” Olberic said as they both watched Alfyn grumble at the computer and type using one finger at a time out of frustration and annoyance. 

“Remind him to actually  _ send _ me the report when he’s done writing it. There was one time that he had written it and swore he sent it to me for three days straight before finding it in his drafts folder having never actually been  _ sent _ .”

Zeph sighed, the sound both exasperated and affectionate. “Got it.”

Olberic clapped Zeph on the shoulder before finding his way back to the elevator. 

The ride was uneventful, although Primrose was leaning casually against his desk, waiting for him when he returned.

“I’m glad you’re okay,” Olberic said to Primrose. “I have Alfyn writing the report for you.”

“Thank you,” Primrose responded. “I’m sure he’ll make it more sunshine and rainbows than it was.”

“We’ll see. He did indicate there was at least some trouble, but nothing that you couldn’t handle.”

Primrose smirked slightly. 

“Is there something I can help you with?” Olberic asked as he reached his desk and pulled out his chair. 

“I…” Primrose sighed. “I wanted to thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” Olberic said as he mentally ran through what he could have  _ possibly _ done to make Primrose, of all his employees, thank him.

“I notice the kinds of jobs you assign to me,” Primrose continued as Olberic sat down. “And that you try to put me with as many different groups as possible so I can make connections and find leads.”

“Did you receive one today?” Olberic asked. 

“One of the criminals today…” she trailed off for a moment. “They were kicked out from a murder of crows by a new ‘leader’ named Albus. I believe that Albus works for Simeon. He wouldn’t tell me  _ where _ the murder was and I can’t speak to crows naturally, so it’s both a dead end and helpful.”

“I’m glad that I can assist you.” Olberic said solemnly. “All I ask is that you take care of yourself and don’t take any unnecessary risks. Our job is already dangerous enough.”

“When we’re not guarding protests and parades,” Primrose drawled and walked away. 

“Hey, I  _ like _ parades!” Tressa protested from her desk, which made Ophilia chuckle.

Olberic shook his head and turned back to his email. 

As he was scrolling through emails which usually required no input from him, since his department was almost an afterthought where mundane shifters went to either be promoted to a more prestigious post by Olberic or drop out of the force entirely, his eyes caught on an email whose sender made a shiver work down his spine.

He cautiously opened it.

_ Olberic, _

_ Saw that you were “invited” to the meeting next week. Was hoping that maybe we could meet up after it’s all over to catch up--it has been eight years. I look forward to seeing you there and hope to go home with you afterwards. _

_ Yours, _

_ Erhardt _

Olberic ran his fingers through his hair, his heart twisting in both nerves and anticipation. 

He and Erhardt had split up eight years ago because of familial pressures: Erhardt came from a prestigious lion pride and Olberic from a wolf pack with a strong, long lineage. Cross-species relationships were unacceptable in such families, even if it was accepted by the public at large, and their relationship was even more frowned upon when it turned out Olberic couldn’t shift at all. 

Not like that had prevented them from being each other’s Companion, which worked independently of their family’s opinions. Being around Erhardt simply felt  _ good  _ and he had grown to both want and love the infuriating man, which was why it hurt so much when they had parted. It had been a kind of physical and emotional trauma, and, even almost a decade later, there were still echoes every now and then, a melancholy desire for something he knew he could never have without losing everything else he loved. 

_ A one or two night stand might help a little, though, _ Olberic thought as he regarded the email. It felt  _ wrong _ contemplating it like that, but a fleeting affair and minor scandal was better than complete denial; anyway, he wasn’t sure he would be able to  _ not _ bring Erhardt home with him after seeing him in person again. Indulging in their relationship wouldn't hurt anyone, although it would ruffle quite a few metaphorical and literal feathers. 

He stared at the email for a little while longer before crafting a reply.

_ Erhardt, _

_ I’ll make sure that my apartment is in order. _

_ Yours, _

_ Olberic _

It didn’t  _ quite _ feel right to be using work email to set up an intimate rendezvous, but nothing was explicit, and he knew for a fact that other people had done much worse, considering he had been required to reprimand them.

After sending his reply, Olberic deleted Erhardt’s email, but his attention was shot as ghostly memories of Erhardt--Erhardt's body against his own, binge-watching awful television shows, going grocery shopping together, taking care of Erhardt when he caught the flu--whispered through Olberic and left him  _ aching _ on many different levels. 

So, he closed out of his email, logged off his computer, and searched out H’aanit. 

“I need a quick trip to the gym to get rid of some extra energy after sitting behind the desk all day,” he said once he arrived at her station. “You know my number and I’ll do running instead of weight lifting so you can reach me.”

H’aanit nodded. “You  _ have _ been the one stuck here lately,” she said. “You orchestrate everything, but so rarely go out on your own.”

Olberic shrugged. “It is what it is. Call me if you need me.”

He grabbed the gym bag he kept under his desk along with his keys, key card, and phone. He briskly made his way out of the building and out into the summer heat, the humidity almost a living thing as it billowed against his skin after he left the air conditioned building behind. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Why, yes, this has indeed become a thing that I write. Updates will be more sporadic, because I like to have at least two chapters written for every one that I post and I am not quite as dedicated to this fic. That being said, I hope you enjoy.
> 
> Oh, right. There is sex in this chapter. Yes. Chapter 2. This is not a slow-burn fic. To repeat, THERE IS SEX. BETWEEN TWO DUDES. IN THIS CHAPTER. Sex.
> 
> Additionally, nothing Octopath Traveler belongs to me.

The only reason Olberic was neither overwhelmed nor intimidated among the military and policing elite was because he grew up being someone’s grand-cousin while also knowing his great-grandmother and great-grandfather. He had been required to navigate family politics from an early age, which had only grown more fraught the older he got--calling him the metaphorical black sheep of the family was  _ generous _ . He didn’t hold the omega position among his generation, but that was only because he wasn’t a wolf.

It was still incredibly uncomfortable being a very vulnerable human in a room mostly full of apex predators, regardless of the fact that he had been allowed to carry a gun with him.

He saw a number of familiar faces--men and women with whom he had attended school or climbed the ranks--and they gave him the familiar, exasperated/chagrined smile. 

_ Yes, I’m still here, _ Olberic thought as he returned it with a polite smile of his own.

“Hey, there you are! Wasn’t sure they’d believe you and let you in.”

Olberic turned and gave his cousin Ned a genuine smile and hug. 

“Look at you, breaking out the dress uniform,” Olberic said after they parted. 

Ned pulled on the hem of the coat and snorted. “I feel silly in it, but I had to look  _ nice _ , and when Cecily actually bothered to  _ iron _ it, well, I had to wear it then, didn’t I?”

Ned was one of Olberic’s cousins who actually  _ liked _ Olberic. They had looked out for each other when they were younger--Ned had been the runt of the generation and early on people began to suspect that Olberic would never shift--and were a formidable team. Ned had fought  _ hard _ to keep Olberic from being discharged from the military, and was the only reason why Olberic had the position he did; Olberic had helped Ned get into the military in the first place and passed on the best recruits he received to Ned’s division.

“You don’t look silly, you look  _ professional _ ,” Olberic said and straightened Ned’s collar. “How  _ is _ Cecily doing?”

“She’s doing fine, thanks for asking.”

“You propose yet?”

Ned shifted on his feet and looked away.

“ _ Ned _ .”

“What?”

“Just do it.”

“But what if she says  _ no _ ?”

“I doubt she will,” Olberic replied.

“Still…”

It was hard to explain to other people, but Olberic felt there was a shift in even the  _ air _ when Erhardt was in the same room as him. A sense of potential, friction, like the charge before a lightning strike. It made his skin prickle, but he refused to look for his Companion, because if he  _ did _ , he’d never make it through the meeting. Knowing he was in the same area was bad enough.

“Do you know what this is even about?” Olberic asked, trying to ignore Erhardt’s  _ presence _ . “I’m told purely on a need-to-know basis.”

Ned scowled before he said, “Someone has been forcing shifts, and that has been causing a whole lot of problems. The higher-ups didn't care when it was people of…lesser social standing, but now that a military kid was forced, well, it's getting the attention it deserves.”

Olberic cursed softly. 

All shifters started out as purely human. However, over time their unique genes activated through a series of steps, a kind of puberty to go along with all the other fun chemical changes. Exposure was important, and was the first step in determining what the child could shift into--there were certain, very  _ specific _ reactions of a child to the animal who they would eventually become. Then the body had to be physically capable and prepared to complete the change; there was some leeway in when that was considered to be true, and it worked much like a woman’s menarche, able to occur over a range of ages and development. Actual physical contact with the animal they were to shift into was the final requirement. An  _ un _ official requirement was mental maturity. Being able to accept and control the duality of existing as both human and animal wasn’t easy by any means, which was why a first shift was usually done in the presence of family members, to help coax and support the young adult.

Forced shifts bypassed the mental requirement; after all, it wasn’t  _ necessary _ , just a nice thing to have if you didn’t want a purely instinct-driven shifter on your hands. While it was possible to soothe a forced shift and bring them back from what was almost akin to insanity, it took time, effort, and patience, and had a 65% success rate. 

Anyone caught forcing shifts was dealt with swiftly, and it was the only crime that retained the death penalty. 

“Awfully nice of them to bother including me,” Olberic murmured. "But, you don't gather this many people for a meeting when a memo would do."

“Because of these shifts, tensions with other countries, intelligence leaks, and instances of domestic terrorism have risen," Ned said. "This is a strategy meeting, and you can't do that without involving everyone. I personally think that it is good that you are here. Your department is the one closest to the ground, and likely have the best perspective on local and domestic issues. Intelligence agencies can only do so much. Daily exposure is a different thing.”

Olberic frowned and nodded. “Not like anyone  _ asks _ , and I doubt my input will be requested at all.”

“Your reports are exceptionally articulate, Olberic, so central admin doesn’t ask anything more of you because you already provide all the information they need.”

"They have never demonstrated that they value my opinion."

"You never know…"

Olberic shook his head slowly.

"I saw your Companion enter earlier," Ned said softly. 

"I know he did," Olberic replied just as softly.

"You gonna be okay?"

"It's been 8 years since I saw him," Olberic said. "But I still knew the exact moment he entered the room. I'll try to be subtle, but make no promises." 

"It's not fair to either of you, you know."

"A pack or pride of two is lonely," Olberic murmured. "And if life were fair, people wouldn't look down on me for something that I have had no say over."

"Nonetheless…"

“Can I sit next to you?” Olberic asked when people began to file into the meeting room, the doors opening without fanfare or signal.

“No, it’s organized by branch, so you’re stuck with the police force,” Ned said. "But we can at least walk in together. Maybe it will remind people that you're still a part of our family in spite of your inability to shift and make them treat you better."

"I appreciate your optimism."

Everyone filed in nearly silently, conversations held in whispers as they all clumped into their respective branches of the military, intelligence, and police forces. Olberic was forced towards the back of the policing force's section, due to his lack of importance and unwillingness to  _ make _ people recognize his presence. He wanted to keep his job. 

He settled into one of the uncomfortable seats, looked up, and immediately caught Erhardt’s eyes. The man was as attractive as Olberic remembered, with bright green eyes, a mane of gold hair that rivaled the one he had as a lion, strong, even facial structure, and pale skin. He held himself with an air of dignity and strength, and had a way of simply... _ standing out _ in a crowd. Olberic had no idea how the man worked effectively as an intelligence agent, but, somehow, he did.

The longer Olberic held Erhardt’s eyes, the more relaxed he became, and he saw Erhardt’s shoulders fall slightly as well. It would be difficult to pay attention, surely, but…

_ He’s here. He’s actually  _ here, Olberic thought as he sat back in his seat, everything somehow slightly more comfortable, and the suggestion of a small smile on Erhardt’s face made it even better.

He and Erhardt had discovered that they were Companions at a random social mixer when they were in college. Olberic was happily tipsy and had been eyeing Erhardt the entire night, and Erhardt had only  _ encouraged _ his interest. They both knew that they were forbidden to the other, due to their respective familial backgrounds--which Olberic only knew because friends had tried to stop him--but they were young and barely on the sober side of drunk. They had gradually, slowly spun away from the mixer and found their way to Erhardt’s dorm room, since he had managed to get a single, while Olberic was rooming with two of his second-cousins. 

Olberic had fetched Erhardt up against his dorm room’s door as soon as it was closed and he had  _ never _ experienced a kiss like the one he shared with Erhardt. He knew, in hindsight, that that should have tipped him off that something was  _ different _ , but they were both twenty and horny as hell, so Olberic was always astonished that they had remembered things like  _ lube _ and  _ preparation _ and  _ condoms _ when the memory surfaced. The sex had been amazing, but the cuddles were even better, and it had felt  _ right _ to be in Erhardt’s arms and to have Erhardt enveloped in his own. 

It was only after morning sex and separate showers that they both noticed a very peculiar identical marking that hadn’t been there the night before,which indicated that their one-night stand was the beginning of something much deeper, intimate, and longer-lasting. 

Olberic still burned for Erhardt eight years later, but he ached for simple  _ touch _ from him above all else. 

_ If only... _

The meeting was called to order, and Olberic found it  _ easier _ to focus now that he had found Erhardt. The uncertainty and anticipation was gone, and he  _ knew _ that they would speak once the meeting was over.

It was then that Olberic discovered just how little he was told by the higher-ups. It was both frustrating and, frankly, a relief. If he didn’t  _ know _ it, then he couldn’t be blamed if one of his team members made a mistake. 

Naturally, the Intelligence team did most of the talking, although it was only the background to the situation that was described and not deeper, more particular details--after all, they had to be aware of the fact that people like Olberic and junior military officers were present.

Forced shifts were always a bit of a problem. Some families deliberately forced shifts, for one reason or another. It was also done as revenge or intimidation. Sometimes it was purely accidental or a result of teenage stupidity. Other times, there seemed to be no reason at all. Still, it was usually easy to tell the intentionally malicious from the rest, although each was treated with the priority of a murder investigation.

It was the one kind of case that was never handed off to Olberic's team. 

The case that they were discussing had apparently crossed international borders, coming first from Hornburg after causing civil war when the populace decided to take the matter into their own hands; anymore, Hornburg was no better than a pile of rubble. 

Erhardt was the one who presented the most detailed documentation of the downfall. From what Olberic could divine, Erhardt had spent years undercover in the country. It was startling, seeing how quickly an entire country could be brought to ruin, and Olberic felt a small twinge of loss. His family was originally from Hornburg, but Osterra simply had the  _ space _ necessary for a wolf pack while Hornburg had not.

_ I’ll have to tell my team to be alert for anything that seems out of place when out on a mission or prioritize Walks, _ Olberic thought, crossing his arms over his chest. That they had nearly no lead on whom or what caused the collapse or  _ why _ was frustrating and worrisome. 

_ What can I do in this situation, though? _ Olberic wondered as uptick in domestic terrorism--which they believed to be connected to the forced shifts and destruction of Hornburg --was detailed and explained.  _ I suppose keep my eyes and ears open and pay closer attention to the reports the others write for me. Maybe...start going on a few investigations myself. Not that I am sure that I will notice evidence that the others will not, but I may be able to put things together more quickly. Either that or the perpetrator will find it amusing to try beat up the Dud. _

As the meeting continued, Olberic had the sneaking suspicion that he had been invited out of obligation--he  _ was _ the head of what he had heard called, 'The Department of Miscellaneous Matters'--and as a way to remind him of his place. His team was the charity case, and if they didn't need someone to hold a post no one else wanted, he'd be gone in a heartbeat. There was, however,  _ one _ moment that his department, and himself, was addressed.

"You're going to have to handle many more cases than normal while we focus on this threat to national and individual security,” the assistant general--a lion shifter who had no love for Olberic due to being a cousin of Erhardt's--drawled. “I hope you'll be able to keep up. We expect comparable quality to what the normal department would generate." 

"We have yet to fail the people of this country," Olberic said evenly, even as there were a few low chuckles from the people sitting around him. "And we do not intend to begin doing that now. You will see no decline in quality."

Olberic wasn't sure how their department of seven would do it, but they would, if just out of sheer cussedness. 

Olberic's statement surprised a laugh out of someone, but, for the most part, the collected group were too disciplined to make their incredulity known. 

"Please discuss arrangements with your division head," the assistant general replied smoothly before moving on in the agenda.

Olberic distantly felt a simmering anger, and he sought out Erhardt to see the man briefly give his cousin a look that should have eviscerated him where he stood. Olberic couldn't help but smile faintly--if Erhardt had one true personality flaw, it was his temper.

The meeting ended exactly when it was scheduled to, and everyone filed out, murmuring amongst themselves about the information, developments, and strategies discussed. Olberic waved goodbye to Ned, who gave him a somber wave back. Olberic then stepped closer to listen in--and perhaps even participate--on the policing force mini-meeting that was happening just outside the room they had all left. He had, after all, been told to consult with the division head.

However, a police lieutenant placed his hand firmly on Olberic’s chest when he attempted to join the meeting and said, “This isn’t your concern.”

“I was told to coordinate with the head of division,” Olberic pointed out. “The sooner I do so, the sooner you all can focus on the more important and pressing matters at hand."

The man shook his head, a wry, disparaging smile on his face. "You don't need to. We'll send your team what they need to know and do. There is no need for you to trouble the chief when, like you said, there are more pressing matters than your team at hand. I doubt you’ll even get anything more than usual. If you do, try to keep up, will you? We don’t need your team making the rest of us look bad."

_ Well, that is both rude  _ and _ unfair, _ Olberic thought, but shoved his anger down. In the match-up of human versus tiger, the human would lose, so starting trouble would get him nowhere except the unemployment line or funeral home.

“Very well,” Olberic said. “Thank you for inviting  _ me  _ to this meeting today. I’m glad my team is so  _ valued _ .”

Olberic knew it was petty and childish, but he was  _ allowed _ to be offended, damnit, if only because they were bad-mouthing his team! He was mostly immune to the insults against himself, but his team was capable, just nothing flashy, so  _ they _ didn’t deserve to be treated so dismissively. 

He turned and walked away from the group; it seemed like most of the members hadn’t even registered his  _ presence _ . He fumed as he followed the signs towards the exits and distantly entertained the notion of being petty enough to not tell the other departments anything his team found out on their own and handle matters by themselves. 

_ That would be stupid, though, _ Olberic sighed.  _ The more resources I have, the better. _

“Olberic.”

Olberic was brought out of his poor mood and dark thoughts by Erhardt’s voice. He turned to see the man walking briskly over towards him, and Olberic couldn’t help but walk towards him as well. He pulled Erhardt up into a tight hug when they met, and Erhardt laughed softly as Olberic lifted him slightly off the ground.

Something raw and slowly-bleeding within Olberic immediately healed over as he breathed in Erhardt, felt his physicality, his warmth, as Erhardt hugged him back. 

Olberic put Erhardt down and pulled back enough that he could look at Erhardt, who rested his forearms on Olberic’s shoulders, interlacing his fingers behind Olberic’s neck. 

“It’s been too long, Olberic,” Erhardt said softly, longing and warmth in his gaze. 

“It has,” Olberic agreed. “Let’s go somewhere else to talk, though.”

“Of course.”

Olberic broke the embrace, but Erhardt caught his hand before he could pull away entirely. Olberic gave Erhardt an almost  _ shy _ smile and fully intertwined their fingers before proceeding onward.

“You certainly uncovered quite a bit during your work,” Olberic said in a low murmur.

Erhardt nodded. “It was challenging and...kept me occupied,” Erhardt responded. After a long pause, he continued: “The higher-ups are dicks. There was no fucking reason to shit on you like that. You have always proven more than capable."

Olberic laughed and squeezed Erhardt’s hand. “They are no better or worse than any other boss I have had in my life. I’m used to it by now.”

“You shouldn’t  _ have _ to be used to it,” Erhardt growled. “There are plenty of noteworthy and accomplished people who aren’t shifters.”

“I’m sure,” Olberic replied as they walked out of a back entrance to the building. “My place or yours?”

“Mine is currently a hotel,” Erhardt responded.

“My place it is, then.”

Olberic felt alarmingly content with Erhardt at his side, his mood buoyed by the occasional fond looks he would catch Erhardt giving him and the strength of Erhardt's hand in his own. The weather was oppressive, but it felt better to be in the heat than around people who would fire him if only they could find justification. They walked in silence, deftly evading the people who had come to Victor's Hollow for various sporting championships and tournaments that were held throughout the year. It was also where the Osterran military academy was located, so there were always students or hopefuls passing through, and was also the home of the headquarters for the Osterran National Police. It was a town primarily made of predator shifters, or exceedingly hardy prey ones, so most civilian families had homes in the nearby suburbs, just in case a child or significant other manifested prey animal genetics. 

“Why does it feel like no time has passed since we were last together?” Olberic asked as they waited at a crosswalk close to Olberic's apartment complex. He could have chosen to use government provided housing, but he dealt with enough assholes in his job; he didn't want to have to live with them, too.

Erhardt shrugged. “Does it matter? Pin it on whatever it means for us to be Companions if you must. I’m just... _ relieved _ to see you again.”

“ _ Relieved _ is an understatement,” Olberic said and gently kissed Erhardt’s knuckles. “I don’t think that I would have been able to survive that meeting without you. I didn’t know...I didn’t know just how much I  _ missed _ you.”

Erhardt’s expression softened into one that made Olberic’s heart flutter slightly. So many people looked at him with contempt, that someone looking at him with...well, with  _ love _ was startling and soothed an eternal ache in him.

_ But, can he really still love me after 8 years apart? Is he still the Erhardt I remember? He has been undercover for so long, will this just be pretense, or…? _

Something in Erhardt’s eyes, however, said that he had missed Olberic just as badly and was equally unsure about Olberic still being  _ Olberic _ , or if too much had changed.

_ I will show him that, even though the years have passed and I have probably grown more cynical, that I am still the man he remembers at heart. _

Olberic gave Erhardt a reassuring smile and pulled him closer, throwing his arm around Erhardt’s shoulders.

Erhardt flashed him a quick, pleased grin prior to slipping his arm around Olberic’s waist.

The rest of their walk passed in comfortable silence, a sort of bubble of good humor insulating them from incredulous and curious looks. Olberic was displeased that he had to let go of Erhardt to open the door to his apartment, but gestured that Erhardt enter before him. There was a sort of  _ thrill _ at bringing Erhardt into his personal quarters. Olberic  had managed to upgrade his apartment slightly since he and Erhardt were last together, primarily due to his stubborn insistence on being treated equally to those in a comparable position.

Olberic was aware it was a rather spartan set-up, but everything was comfortable, and that was what mattered to him. Light blue colored the walls of his living space and large windows let in a deluge of light. Most of his furniture was antique hand-me-downs from family members who felt guilty about ignoring him except for the yearly family reunion, and what technology he owned was paid for by his yearly allowance from the family. A few awards were hung on the walls, along with his diplomas. 

His bedroom held a king-size bed, a chest of drawers and armoire, and a small closet; his bathroom was minimalistic. As he spent more of his time at work than in his actual home, he didn’t need terribly much.

“You never were one for decorating,” Erhardt mused as Olberic closed and locked the door. 

“I never saw the point,” Olberic said before pulled Erhardt into another hug. 

Olberic felt a somewhat distant wash of pleasure as he held Erhardt, and knew that it wasn’t entirely his own. 

Olberic wasn’t normally a tactile person, but it was almost physically painful to not be touching Erhardt now that he had Erhardt with him again.

“Cuddle on your couch and talk?” Erhardt asked in a murmur after they had both deposited shoes and suit jackets near Olberic’s apartment door.

“That sounds like a good plan to me,” Olberic said before he swept Erhardt off his feet and into a carry. 

“Damn,” Erhardt muttered as Olberic walked over and settled on the couch, stretching out so there was as much contact between his and Erhardt’s body as possible, positioning them so Erhardt's back was to his own chest.

A comfortable silence fell as Olberic slowly stroked Erhardt’s head and shoulders, and he would have  _ sworn _ he heard Erhardt purring. 

“How have these last eight years been?” Erhardt eventually asked, his eyes closed and his voice a little sleepy. 

"Good enough," Olberic responded. "For all that my department is the butt of everyone else's jokes, we've done more good than people give us credit for, even if it is the larger, more prestigious departments that eventually get the spotlight. We've solved more cold cases than I care to remember. Think of us like a...pinch hitter or closer. We finish what other people get frustrated with or lose interest in. Of course, the other departments don't see it that way. They also give us the more...usual animals. We've had our share of pigeons and sparrows, house cats, domesticated dogs of all breeds, rabbits, squirrels. We occasionally get odd animals, the ones that are too flashy or exotic for field--i currently have a peacock and a swan as part of my team. One time they assigned a giraffe to me. He was an interesting young man, although I am glad he decided that his skills were put to better use somewhere other than the police force."

Erhardt hummed thoughtfully. "So, you get a lot of prey animals?"

"Often. We are also a bit of a culling ground for recruits, which is upsetting. But, I would rather they leave with a positive view of the police force and get out of a job they would be miserable in before they become entrenched. Can you give me an overview of how things have been for you? Or do I need security clearance?"

Erhardt snorted. "You technically need security clearance, but I don’t care. You deserve to know things, so I'll tell you everything I can. Just because you're purely human doesn’t mean that you are not capable, and I think that you and your team deserve recognition for the work that you do."

"Erhardt…"

"But, no more talk of work for now. I saw your cousin there, the one who doesn’t hate me. How is he doing?"

"He's doing well. Still hasn't proposed to Cecily. I think he just isn’t going to because...he sees us as we were. Are. And doesn’t want to deprive her of that possibility."

Erhardt scoffed. "Happiness is most often found with someone who isn’t a compliment, a Companion. What we have is exceedingly rare."

"True," Olberic agreed.

Olberic eventually rested his hands on Erhardt's abdomen, breathing in time with him.

"How long are you in Victor's Hollow?" Olberic asked.

"Only for two more days."

_ And then you're gone again, _ Olberic thought sadly.

“Let go for a second,” Erhardt said, and Olberic unhappily complied.

Erhardt maneuvered so he was suspended over Olberic and held his eyes. 

"I will always desire you, Olberic," Erhardt said softly as Olberic gently tucked a stray strand of hair behind Erhardt’s ear. "When you are even simply  _ near _ me, everything is better, easier, more pleasant. I want to hold you, I want to fuck you, I want to spend as much time with you as we can tolerate without wanting to murder the other. It killed me, Olberic, knowing you were here and knowing that both of us would die for each other, but would also die without our pride, our pack."

"Erhardt…I more than desire you," Olberic murmured as he pressed a hand over Erhardt’s heart.

"I know," Erhardt whispered. "But if I say the other word, the  _ real _ word, I won’t be able to leave you again."

“Then don’t,” Olberic said. “We’re both thirty-five, I’m far past any possibility of ever shifting, we can support each other, and I’m sure we can make our own pride, our own pack. It doesn’t have to be blood family. I consider my team at work family more than my blood-pack, and I would be happy to introduce you to them all--I’m sure they’ll love you, and if they don’t, well, I will figure out something else. My blood-family strongly dislikes me, anyway, so I don’t really...belong to that pack; thus, it won’t be a loss for me. However…”

Olberic stopped talking when Erhardt pressed two fingers lightly to Olberic’s lips, and Olberic’s heart twisted when he saw the agony and sorrow on Erhardt’s face. 

“I want to,” Erhardt responded. “I want to tell my family to just  _ shove it _ . The problem is that they have  _ connections _ . I get into some places solely on the fact that I can call in a favor from a family member. Some would understand my decision--quite a few of the relatives I’m closest to have Companions--but, at the same time...well, I’m in the running for succession, and if I do take over leadership, I can influence modification or removal of certain outdated and stupid rules, like only marrying within the species of shifted animal. Plenty of lions outside our pride marry shifters who transform into different animals, some happily marry pure-humans--my pride is just  _ stubborn _ and old-fashioned.”

“Erhardt…”

“Maybe, if someone tells me that I’m  _ never _ going to become pride-leader, I will tell my family to put their outdated notions up their collective asses; I can deal with the extra leg-work.” Erhardt traced Olberic’s face with the tips of his fingers. “I...Olberic, if these moments are all we can get…”

“I will survive,” Olberic said firmly. “And will look forward to every single moment I get to have you with me.” After a small hesitation, a blush crept across Olberic’s face as he continued, “Or in me. Or on me. Or in you. Take your pick.”

Erhardt’s lips pulled into an evil smile that sent a thrill through Olberic. “Awfully forward, aren’t we?” Erhardt purred. 

“I know that we should  _ probably _ not jump straight into sex after not seeing each other for eight years,” Olberic muttered as his hands slowly made their way down Erhardt’s front and towards his waist. “At the same time, who knows when we will see each other again, and…”

“And I’ve missed your body, your physicality, as much as I have missed you as a person,” Erhardt finished for him. “Some nights I wake up  _ aching _ for you. Fantasizing is hollow and only makes me want you more, and any masturbation I do leaves me more unsatisfied and desperate than I was before.” 

Olberic’s skin prickled and he could feel  _ need _ pooling in his groin. “It’s awful, isn’t it? I can remember every way that you have ever touched me, every kiss, every whispered word and moan and--”

Erhardt promptly stretched out on top of Olberic and caught his lips in a desperate, hungry kiss. It ran like electricity along Olberic’s nerves as he returned the kiss to the best of his ability--he was very out of practice--and slid his hands under Erhardt’s shirt, caressing his quickly heating skin. 

It was always distant and muted, but Olberic always caught an echo of Erhardt's emotions, and he loved knowing that all of his  _ desire _ was mirrored in another.

When the kiss broke, Erhardt whispered: "Let me ride you. And when we’ve recovered, I can make love to you. And then we'll do something else until we run out of ideas and energy and pass out in each other's arms. When we wake up we can do that all over again until you and I have to be adults, because the world will survive without us for what little time we have together."

Olberic groaned in appreciation. “That sounds  _ wonderful _ . Can I suggest that we migrate to the bedroom? I don’t have any lube or condoms out here."

“But the bedroom’s so far away,” Erhardt complained. “There’s enough space here, and I have surprisingly high pain tolerance.”

“That’s nice, but I don’t want to hurt you, and I’m sure that you know that broken skin in your colon can lead to a variety of interesting diseases and infections.”

“I know, I know, but you’re making it  _ hard _ to consider moving when you’ve half taken off my shirt and your hands are down my pants and on my ass,” Erhardt replied.

“I can’t help it--I like touching you.”

“And I want you touching me by being  _ inside me,” _ Erhardt growled and ground his hips against Olberic’s, which made Olberic gasp and shiver. “People made do with spit and the like for centuries, we’re just returning to our roots.”

“Then, once you’ve recovered from riding me, how about we go even further back in time and you take me on my hands and knees like so many other animals do?”

Erhardt groaned against Olberic’s neck and reflexively thrust his hips, which made Olberic moan softly. “ _ Olberic _ , stop saying those kinds of things if you want to get to the bedroom.”

“You’re right, the bedroom is too far away, and my couch is  _ very _ sturdy. We can make our way there as we’re recovering. However, condoms...”

"I haven’t been with anyone," Erhardt said quickly. "Have you?"

"No. Whenever I even  _ contemplated _ such, it didn’t feel…"

"Right. Well, as I have no STIs and you have no STIs, I want you to come inside me, and will return the favor when I take you. Sounds like a plan?"

A soft cry of  _ want _ escaped Olberic, which made Erhardt chuckle darkly. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

Olberic wasn’t quite sure how they got their clothes off, but Olberic felt like he was overheating when Erhardt’s bare skin was against his own, frissions of  _ pleasure _ at the skin-to-skin contact racing through him. His hands traced the strong, lithe lines of Erhardt's body, and it felt like he couldn't breathe without Erhardt's help from how often and how deeply they kissed. Olberic's world narrowed to Erhardt, the scent of him, the taste of him, the weight and pressure and _physicality_. 

"While I think I would be happy like this for the rest of the day, I really do want you in me," Erhardt said when they broke apart enough to catch their breath, his voice low and lustful. "I'm halfway sure that I could orgasm from _just this,_ but..."

Olberic groaned. "You're not wrong. Sit up so I can sit up."

Erhardt sat back as Olberic pushed himself up, and they both paused for just one second, eyes roaming where hands once had before Olberic said, "How exactly do you want to do this?"

Erhardt smirked, and the somehow coy evil in his expression made Olberic's breath hitch. Erhardt took Olberic's hand and said, "Like this."

Olberic nearly came when Erhardt took his (Olberic’s) fingers into his mouth and began to suck on them, his tongue twining through the spaces as he maintained eye contact the entire time. 

_ If he doesn’t stop, I’m not going to make it inside him, _ Olberic thought hazily, his breathing becoming ragged.

He pulled his fingers from Erhardt’s mouth, and maneuvered so Erhardt was presented to him, and didn’t bother to stifle a moan of appreciation as he began to prepare Erhardt as best he could. There was a brief flicker of discomfort across Erhardt’s face before he clearly relaxed and sank into the sensations. Olberic  _ thoroughly _ enjoyed Erhardt’s vocalizations, since they guided him in how to best torture his Companion. 

It was always breathtaking, seeing Erhardt spread out before him, his body covered in the slight sheen of sweat as he made encouraging sounds of pleasure that never failed to send shivers down Olberic's spine. Erhardt's body sought the stimulation Olberic provided, his arousal prominent, his face and neck flushed, golden hair stuck to his cheeks, his neck, his shoulders as his body bucked--Olberic had clearly found Erhardt's prostate, which made Olberic just the smallest bit smug--and he cried out in wordless ecstasy. While Olberic usually liked seeing Erhardt's brilliant green eyes, the fact that they were closed meant that Erhardt was focused on what Olberic was _doing_ to him, which Olberic didn't mind. They had both been more-or-less celibate for the past eight years, so Olberic was actually slightly pleased. 

However, he  _ did _ want Erhardt on him and, after a little more shifting on the only slightly-protesting couch, Erhardt was poised over him, the head of Olberic’s dick barely touching his (Erhardt’s) entrance, Erhardt's palms spread out flat against Olberic's stomach to both caress and brace himself. Erhardt was always handsome, but he became beautiful when he lost himself in the pleasure that Olberic could give him. Olberic could barely breathe due to a thousand emotions that he couldn't name as he gazed upon the man that _somehow_ was his, and he found himself having to bite back tears. 

It was wonderful torture, how slow Erhardt went as he settled on Olberic’s lap and the  _ sounds _ he made left Olberic fighting off orgasm with almost single-minded concentration. 

_ He’s gorgeous, _ Olberic thought as Erhardt actually started to move, the action languid and leisurely, as if Erhardt was  _ savoring _ the feeling of Olberic inside him.  _ There’s no one better than him. I can’t imagine being with anyone else. He really is...I love him. I want him. I want to wake up to him and fall asleep to him. I would take on the world for him to keep him by my side. I would stand with him. Stand before him or behind him to protect him. He is...  _

Olberic ran his hands along Erhardt’s sides, his caress following the direction of Erhardt’s movement. Erhardt opened his eyes once he was fully penetrated by Olberic again, and a high-pitched whine escaped Olberic. Even through the hazy euphoria of desire, Olberic could see something...similar. Maybe not exactly the same, but a reflection of Olberic’s scattered thoughts in Erhardt’s eyes. 

Erhardt himself shuddered, then closed his eyes and began to ride Olberic in earnest.

Sex with Erhardt was always both amazing and brutal, because, after a certain point of arousal, they _shared_ the sensations, both fucking and getting fucked, so Olberic knew exactly how to _touch_ to send thrills through their combined body. There was always a strange, breathless moment when that occurred, an awareness of another's body as well as one's own, and it felt _glorious_.

They both gasped when that kind of shift occurred, and Olberic had  _ forgotten _ the intensity of the feeling. Erhardt’s movements became a little jerky and faster, and Olberic shifted both his and Erhardt’s bodies just enough to hit the sweet spot inside Erhardt, and Erhardt cried out in something beyond ecstasy. 

The pleasure was so intense that it was nearly  _ painful, _ and it was a relief when they both orgasmed, although the intensity of  _ that _ sensation made Olberic’s world briefly go white. 

They slowly drifted back into their own bodies, and Olberic felt himself shaking just as badly as Erhardt clearly was. Sweat stuck his hair to his neck, shoulders, and chest, and he was panting  _ hard _ , his hands curled on Olberic’s chest. 

The orgasm should have left Olberic exhausted, but his body merely ached for  _ more _ . To have Erhardt as a part of him, intertwined with him. 

Erhardt removed himself and stretched out on his stomach, chest to chest on Olberic, and caught Olberic in another kiss, one that still echoed with desire and spoke of  _ promises. _


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is still being written because why not.
> 
> As always, nothing Octopath Traveler belongs to me.

Erhardt's departure two days later left Olberic depressed and unmotivated. 

While the sex had been amazing, he had enjoyed the leisurely dates more. Cuddling in the pre-dawn, holding hands as they walked down the streets of Victor’s Hollow, and making up bullshit stories about passers-by while grabbing coffee at Olberic’s favorite cafe made the burgeoning rumors completely ignorable. He loved hearing about Erhardt’s life, everything from death-defying missions to restaurant recommendations, and was flattered and pleased by Erhardt’s equal interest in his own day-to-day life. He had  _ forgotten _ what it felt like to have Erhardt at his side, how, even when they argued over the stupid and needlessly dangerous things they had each done over the past almost-decade, there was a sense of trust, belonging, and ease. Olberic had to constantly prove himself to others--with Erhardt, there was none of that. He simply...was.

When Erhardt left  _ again _ , Olberic felt like he lost a part of himself, that a wound had been reopened, regardless of the resolution that they both gave few enough fucks that texting and calling each other would be a regular thing. As he had buried pain through work and usefulness before and it had  _ worked _ , he figured that he do the same to keep his mind off of Erhardt.

“Cyrus, do you have a moment?” Olberic asked.

“Of course, sir!” Cyrus said, looking up from his computer. “How may I assist?”

“I’m planning to go on a Walk and was hoping that you would come with me.”

Cyrus perked up. "I don't think I've ever worked with you, sir." 

"I'm not sure any of you have," Olberic said. "I try to encourage you to work with the others and have you all build records that can let you leave, if you want to, instead of staying on this team with me."

Cyrus looked puzzled. "Why would I want to leave?"

"Well, some people want to be in a more prestigious department, or dislike having someone like me as their captain," Olberic said. 

"How strange. We get to do so many interesting things and are not as constrained as other departments. Why would one  _ not _ want to be a part of this team?"

"People have their reasons."

Cyrus shook his head in disbelief. "What kind of Walk are we going on?"

"Something small and simple," Olberic said. "We've been asked to find a runaway. It is low priority because the note he left for his family indicated that he wasn't serious about leaving and won't go far. Because of that, we've been told the general area he should be in and his parents gave us a piece of clothing to help. However, we are still to take it seriously. The world is still a dangerous place."

Cyrus nodded solemnly. "Of course, sir. Let us be off."

Olberic grabbed the plastic bag that held the piece of clothing, and the keys to the communal car, before he and Cyrus headed out into the summer day. 

"The young man is named Paul," Olberic said as they drove. "Medium-brown hair, brown eyes, medium height and build, there’s a picture in the request. We're heading towards the location of the local teenage "hide out," since he should be there with his friends. According to the family, they do the usual dumb teenage things there, since the place is surprisingly safe and within easy walking distance of even a pure human. Apparently this knowledge comes from personal experience."

"And what are the normal teenage things?" Cyrus asked. "I will fully admit that most teenagers aren't working on their Masters degrees."

Cyrus had obtained a BA, two Masters degrees, a JD, and a PhD by age 28, and had been in the police force since then in various capacities; he had eventually found a home with Olberic's department, since they were the only ones who had managed to keep him mentally stimulated enough. 

Olberic smiled faintly. "I can't tell you, really. My family, being who they are, kept all of us under strict guard and rules. According to what I've heard from Tressa and Alfyn, however, it involves a lot of harmless trouble, romantic and sexual exploration, and angsty music."

Cyrus chuckled. "I suppose I will simply have to ask them to share stories with me."

"Anyway, it shouldn't be hard to find him. The hardest part will likely be convincing him to return home," Olberic said. 

Cyrus nodded. "And he _ should _ be returned home?"

"Ophilia spoke with his parents and Therion did some research; this is as low priority as it is because he comes from a stable, loving family and this is merely a temper tantrum hat he is too committed to to return on his own."

Cyrus shook his head, incredulous and sad. 

The neighborhood was on the edge of the city limits, so Olberic handed over a tablet to Cyrus at a stoplight and said, "Since we're out here anyway, can you look through our assignments and tell me if there is anything else nearby?"

"Is something wrong, sir?" Cyrus asked, concerned, as he took the tablet from Olberic. 

"My Companion visited and now he is gone again, and I'm trying to ignore the pain by being useful," Olberic said, unable to stifle his irritation. Around any of his other team members, Olberic would have kept his mouth shut, but Cyrus was a good and non-judgemental person to rant to.

"I'm sorry, sir," Cyrus said, his voice low and gentle. "It must be awful. I...well, there is quite literally a physiochemical change when two Companions are separated by a distance greater than about the square mileage of Atlasdam. It's small wonder why you have smelled a little differently these few days, not counting the leftover sex scent, that is."

Olberic laughed a little at that. "There is no hiding anything, is there?"

"Not without scent blockers, and those are either illegal or for military and espionage use only," Cyrus said as he scrolled. "In case you were curious, your scent becomes almost cinnamon-y when you are close to him and you carry the smallest bit of lion-shifter scent as well. It was intriguing, actually, cataloging how your scent changed. What has people so up in arms about you two being together, though?"

"Erhardt is an accomplished lion shifter from a very prestigious family and I'm a pure human from a line of wolves. Being a pure human bars me from a lot of positions and professions, and both of our families put stock in such things. It also rankles for people to know that one of their strongest and smartest warriors has chosen to be with the weakest."

"How rude!" Cyrus huffed. "I truly did not know that being a pure human precludes you from jobs and positions. That is flat out institutional discrimination!"

Olberic's shoulders slowly relaxed as Cyrus ranted, the man shifting quickly to citing all sorts of legal cases and rules as to why how people treated Olberic was bullshit. 

_ Well, I suppose we'll look for other assignments after we finish this Walk,  _ Olberic thought, struggling not to smile at Cyrus' indignation.

"Here we are," Olberic said, interrupting Cyrus as he scribbled away on a notepad something that looked suspiciously like a legal brief.

"Hm?" Cyrus said and looked up. "Ah, lovely." 

They both exited the car, and Olberic grabbed the lead and collar that Cyrus used as a dog and the bag with the shirt. Cyrus transformed, and Olberic put the collar and clipped on the leash, before opening the shirt bag and letting Cyrus sniff it.

After a moment's hesitation, Olberic grabbed his handgun. He never stocked it with live bullets, but always used ammunition that deployed a tranquilizer that could put down the hardiest and largest shifters. He usually didn't have to use the weapon on anything that would die from the dose, although there were accidents due to every shifter being different. Overall, it was a less permanent solution, which was what Olberic preferred. Aiming for the right place that would put the shifter down fastest was difficult, but Olberic was the best shot in the entire police force, and, frankly, the military as well. He had to be.

He slipped it into a concealed holster, then gathered the shirt from Cyrus, tossed it into the car, and locked the car. He took the leash out of Cyrus' mouth, Cyrus' tail wagging enthusiastically; Olberic couldn't quite suppress a smile.

Olberic found himself enjoying the walk in general, Cyrus greeting every person, shifter, and animal along the way with an enthusiastic tail wag, canine smile, and kisses. 

The humidity in the air made the day oppressive, and Cyrus was quickly panting, but his ears, eyes, and tail were all still perked and alert. They were moving through a residential neighborhood, small children playing in the front yards, or riding bikes under the watchful eyes of caretakers, either seen or unseen. He saw a few groups splashing about in blow-up swimming pools, including a pair of otters and a few other semi-aquatic shifters. It seemed rather pleasant, if you ignored the trash on the street and a few abandoned and decrepit buildings. 

Walks took time because they couldn't be  _ obvious _ in case they were being watched. That Olberic was walking Cyrus instead of Ophilia would probably confuse anyone who had grown used to seeing Ophilia and Cyrus together, but Olberic had plenty of easy lies. 

Cyrus occasionally put his head in the air and his nose twitched in a strangely adorable way before they continued on their way, meandering in a generally south-easterly direction. They came across increasingly abandoned lots and followed old and now-disused train tracks. After a brief hike through tall grasses that made Olberic make a mental note to check both himself and Cyrus for ticks, they came to the treeline of a wilderness park. 

Cyrus' ears and nose both perked up, and Cyrus wrenched forward and started to run; as Olberic had literally been running with wolves his whole life, he could keep up, but just barely, and uneven ground on two legs was much harder than on four.

He finally heard the cries and pleas of what sounded like young humans and picked up his pace until they found a group of  _ young  _ teenagers, all looking a combination of terrified and horrified. It took Olberic a moment to place why: a man was standing not too far from them, and it didn't take Cyrus' skill at deduction to put together that only one of the cats he held was a beast--the other used to be one of the group of teens, whom Olberic belatedly saw were roughed up; the hyenas hedging them in were clearly shifters. 

There were very few instances where Olberic was allowed to shoot to a shifter--this was one of them. 

"What are you doing?" Olberic demanded. 

He still wanted to establish that his use of force was appropriate.

The man sneered at him, turned to the hyenas, and said, "Take care of our visitors."

Olberic dropped to one knee, unhooked Cyrus' leash, and pulled his gun as he whispered: "Get help." There was enough distance between him and the shifters that he was able to get off three shots that buried the tranquilizer deep in the shifters' necks--all of the ones that had moved to pursue Cyrus, giving him space and bringing Olberic's odds from 5:1 to 2:1, not counting the man. Olberic's skill--and use of force that didn't involve shifting--was surprising, but not enough to stop the other two from attacking. 

In the course of his career and training, Olberic knew the bite strength of every predatory land animal, as well as a few aquatic, and had been subjected to a lot of them. He strongly disliked pack tactics, but growing up with wolves had given him _ experience _ in dealing with such. He was also technically allowed to conceal-carry a blade as well for when a shifter got within melee range, but Olberic tried to avoid that situation at all costs. If he was unfortunate enough to end up in melee, he was still an exceptional shot at point blank range and possessed  _ some _ martial capability. All shifters were larger than their mundane counterparts, for which Olberic was eternally grateful--it made them just a little easier to hit. 

He dodged a bite from one and barely twisted out of the way of the other. The proximity of his dodge allowed him to get off a shot, and while the bullet hit only the solid muscle of the hyena's shoulder it would eventually neutralize them, just take much longer. 

_ Finish this faster! _ Olberic scolded himself.  _ The children are more important! _

It was a sort of dance that Olberic had performed a thousand times when in the military, and sometimes not even against an enemy soldier. He managed to keep successful nips to muscle body only, because while that hurt and bled, it wasn’t quite as disabling as a broken bone. 

Olberic had finite ammunition, however, and was always perversely grateful for how some shifters tried to hold him in place with a bite, because it gave him a perfect, clear shot, although it was upsetting that it was the shifter he had already made contact with.

"Enough."

The final hyena--the only one Olberic hadn't injured--backed away as the man approached. The leader was imposing even as a human, with swarthy features, black hair, brown eyes, and a solid build; a subtle feeling of malice cloaked him, which he wore as familiar as clothing. 

Olberic managed to wrench the unconscious shifter's jaw open--it was always weird and disturbing, having to detach a human--as he watched the man approach. 

"You're quite the shot. And the fool."

Olberic stood as straight as he could while bleeding slowly from his wounds. "I see no foolishness in stopping child abuse."

The man scoffed. "Abuse? We coddle our youth, and do them no favors by providing them with a "safe space." The first shifters had no such luxury, and yet, we are now dominant on this planet. Let nature sort out the ones unfit to wield our power."

"You're insane, " Olberic responded. "You would kill children and destroy their future? For what?"

"Only the strongest deserve to inherit this world; might is the one thing to which all must yield--history has shown this, time and again. We are  _ failing _ this world to pretend otherwise."

Olberic had been half watching the hyena as he spoke. The presumably shifter cat had made it to the group and was trembling in the arms of one of the girls. They were either smart enough to retain themselves, or had simply sensed safety in numbers, but the hyena was getting uncomfortably close to the group. 

"Do try to pay attention to the more dangerous enemy."

Olberic's focus fully returned to the man, who promptly shifted into the largest wolf Olberic had ever seen. His heart jumped to his throat, because he wasn't  _ quite _ a wolf, and Olberic would  _ know _ . There were structural differences, the head wasn't quite right, the musculature broader, built more for power than endurance or speed. It made Olberic shake slightly, but not out of fear; it was an emotion that he couldn't name, although  _ arousal _ was the closest thing he could think of. 

_ What is he? _ Olberic wondered, strangely paralyzed, breathless, his heart racing as he held the changed man's eyes. 

The wolf’s gaze turned from cold anger to malicious god humor, a lupine smile forming on his face. 

One of the young women screamed, and Olberic turned enough to see that the remaining hyena had attempted to bite her, judging from the scrap of cloth in its teeth. 

Olberic was taking a risk and paying that his aim didn't fail him, and shot the hyena. He nearly cheered when he hit it at the base of its neck, although that shot could have possibly killed instead of disabled. 

He barely had enough time to roll away from a lunge by the not-wolf, but it came close enough for Olberic to shiver in discomfort.

It became a test of Olberic's endurance and reaction time against how many shots it would take to put down the not-wolf, once he finally _landed_ one. For being so large, the wolf was also damnable agile.  


However, the forest floor was uneven, and Olberic made a wrong step and felt his ankle wrench as he fell off-balance. The not-wolf was immediately upon him, but instead of ripping out Olberic's throat, as Olberic expected, he just pinned Olberic to the ground and snarled in Olberic's face.

Olberic found it exceedingly hard to breathe and felt almost feverish, but he had been bit, twisted an ankle, and was running barely to one side of exhaustion. He had one last shot in his gun, and was in the  _ perfect _ position, but he simply...couldn’t move, even though the way the wolf positioned himself didn’t hinder Olbeirc any. The wolf's eyes glared into his, and he could read amusement, annoyance, and rage in their depths. There was a sense of expectation, anticipation, but Olberic was only feeling progressively sicker--his skin felt tight, and his muscles  _ ached _ as his head spun. 

There was the sound of a large group approaching, which earned a deep, disgusted growl from the wolf. Olberic swore he could almost  _ hear _ something, but the wolf bit into his shoulder and arm out of spite, leaving Olberic bleeding freely from two more bite wounds, before running. The group burst through the trees, and Olberic distantly registered four other shifters with Cyrus, none of them familiar, and all of them more likely to hurt Olberic than help him, given the pile of bodies and whether or not they realized Olberic had neutralized the threat through drugs, not death. 

He saw two of them shift back to human form, and cries of "Mom!" and "Dad!" gave Olberic hope that he would walk away alive. 

Cyrus trotted over to him and changed back, concern and fear in his eyes. "Sir, are you still with me?" He asked and put his hand on Olberic's good shoulder. 

"Yes, I'm fine," Olberic lied and forced himself to sit up. The sick feeling was slowly passing, but  _ exhaustion _ filled in where it had once been. 

Olberic did not like the look in the other two shifters’ eyes. One was a fox, the other a boar, and they both shifted back to reveal that they were military, not just police. 

"Did you kill those five?" The boar-shifter asked, his voice low, dangerous, and judgemental.

Olberic swallowed blood in his mouth and said, "They should not be dead, but merely unconscious, so I strongly suggest restraining them. They were going to harm the children and attacked me first--my actions were in self defense, I assure you."

The boar didn't believe him, but the fox had been watching the reunion between the parents and children and said, "You're only human, yet managed to subdue five shifters."

"I used to be in the Army and was only discharged because I can't shift. I also grew up in a family of wolves, so I have some experience with dealing with multiple opponents. "

"You're bleeding," Cyrus fretted. "We need to get you somewhere where you can get medical attention."

"Just help me stand," Olberic said. 

With the help of Cyrus and a branch, Olberic manage to get to his feet, although his ankle throbbed and was impossible to put weight on. 

"Hey, you."

Olberic looked over to see the young woman who had nearly been bitten regarding him solemnly. 

"Are you okay?" Olberic asked, his mind beginning to feel fuzzy. "I should have--"

"That was a really big and really dangerous wolf, I don't blame you being distracted a little," she cut in. "I just...thank you." She looked down at the cat that shivered in her arms. 

"Will they be okay?" Olberic asked, concern steadying him slightly.

"He was going to shift soon anyway," she said and stroked his fur. "The rest of us…"

"I'm glad I could help," Olberic said, his voice steady even as his head spun. "You should be safe now." Olberic turned to the two military shifters. "I need to see a doctor. Is there an urgent care center nearby?"

"I’ll take you there," the fox shifter said. "Omar should be able to take care of the hostiles."

"Thank you," Olberic said, the ground tilting and listing beneath him. "I don't think I can drive. Cyrus, the keys are still in my back pocket--it buttons closed."

"Right, sir."

As Olberic staggered along, an image of the wolf kept on circling back in his mind, the creature all strong, hard lines, powerful muscles, thick fur, and blazing, viciously intelligent eyes.

_ What kind of wolf was he? Certainly none that I have seen before, _ Olberic thought.  _ But, how is that possible? There are only two species of wolves alive now, and I’ve had extensive contact with both. _

His movement became almost meditative, he focusing purely on putting one foot in front of the other to avoid passing out. He had to be held back by the fox shifter upon their arrival at the car.

"I'll drive," the fox shifter said. "You just make sure he doesn't bleed out on us."

_ He sounds surprised and impressed, _ Olberic thought.  _ Ha, doesn't this show you to not underestimate pure humans! ...I'm really in a bad way, aren't I?  _

Olberic was helped into the back seat, although Cyrus took front passenger seat, probably because he half didn't trust the fox to actually take them to an urgent care center.

_ Probably just need a few vaccines, the wounds to be cleaned, some stitches if i was unlucky, maybe an antibiotic for safety's sake. I'll be kicked out before the night shift. _

The sole good thing about hospitals was that it was the only profession with a majority of pure humans. Even though all shifters were technically part human, there was still some bleed-through of animal preferences, so a mouse shifter would be less than pleased to have a cat shifter as a doctor, or a snake being treated by a mongoose. Pure humans were neutral and nonthreatening--the pay was also obscenely good, which Olberic imagined made up for whatever indignities were suffered. 

As Olberic was technically still able to walk, he limped into the emergency care on his own, although Cyrus cleared the way before him. The world had gone grey from pain and shock, and apparently he looked pretty bad, since he was put on at least slightly higher triage, although he imagined not by much. Bite wounds were commonplace, the process for dealing with them smooth and seamlessly efficient. 

_ This is a strange kind of tired,  _ Olberic mused as he looked at his shoulder, which, being the largest among the bites, was the more critical one. 

"I'm okay, Cyrus," he said and looked over to the dog shifter, who was actually  _ arguing  _ with someone. "I'll be out before you know it, I've dealt with much worse. I've helped diffuse bombs, even though there are animals with more nimble fingers, since who cares if the human gets blown up. So, truly, I will be fine. Why don't you get Ophilia and have her talk to the parents and children?"

Olberic's assurance only served to make Cyrus give the fox shifter an even dirtier look, who seemed completely nonplussed. 

"I'll stay with you, sir, if it is all the same. I'm sure the military have the matter firmly in hand," Cyrus said, a surprising growl in his voice. 

"Please return the keys to us before you leave," Olberic said. 

After a long moment, the fox shifter handed them back.

"What is your name?" Cyrus asked.

"Gareth," the man responded. "Goodbye."

Olberic winced as the bite wounds were thoroughly cleaned, although none needed stitches, for which Olberic was grateful.

"You're running a bit of a fever," the nurse said. "We also have to take a few x-rays."

"Very well," Olberic responded. "You really don't have to stay here, Cyrus."

Cyrus shook his head. "I left you alone to deal with five hyena shifters and one--wolf, I believe the girl said. I'm not leaving you again."

Olberic shook his head. "We did the right thing in the given situation. Don't stew in what is. I know from personal experience that that will lead nowhere good. Someone needs to go back to the office and hold down the fort, anyway. H'aanit is out on an assignment, so you're the next person I'd trust to keep things from getting shot to hell in my absence."

That made Cyrus smile faintly, although there was still worry clouding his features. "Sir…"

"You will be doing nothing but sitting around," the nurse said. "Shoo. We'll take care of him from here."

Cyrus waffled for a moment more before sighing and nodding slowly. "Very well, sir," Cyrus said. "Please call as soon as you know your diagnosis."

"Of course," Olberic responded. "I'm counting on you, Cyrus."

"Yes, sir."

Cyrus reluctantly left after Olberic was transferred to a wheelchair to get his ankle x-rayed.

"You have no idea how hard it is to get dog shifter parents-to-be to not fret when their partner is in labor," the nurse murmured as she wheeled Olberic through the hospital, which made Olberic chuckle. "We'll also be checking your shoulder and leg, to make sure that the bites you received didn't break anything."

Olberic felt  _ distinctly _ silly being wheeled about, but wasn't going to complain--his ankle  _ hurt. _

As he observed the rooms and people pass by, the image of the wolf kept circling back to him, and be remembered not the pain from the bites, but the strange combination of fear, jealousy, and desire that he had felt upon seeing the man shift.

_ I suppose it is much the same as when I was younger and was upset at not being able to shift like the rest of my family,  _ Olberic thought _. Just another yearning for something that will never be mine. _

It was easier to push the memory away after that realization.

_ " _ Think I'll be home for dinner?" He asked the nurse as she wheeled I'm into the x-ray room.

"I don't see why not," she said. "Although maybe a little later due to people needing to look over the pictures and run the necessary blood work. We will also give you booster vaccines and antibiotics."

Olberic nodded slowly. "Very well," he said and slid up and onto the table.

"The technician will be in shortly and will take you where you need to go after the x-rays." __

"Understood," Olberic responded. 

The nurse gave him a reassuring smile as she left the room. 

Olberic sighed and looked at the ceiling. 

_ Well, it could be worse,  _ Olberic mused.  _ I'll have to write up a report of my own. People need to know about this man, and I'm sure that the backup will not have either the full or correct story. The real question is, is he doing this on his own or does he have allies? I know he had minions, but… _

The technician came in, interrupting Olberic's brooding, and Olberic resigned himself to the beginning of the tests. 


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have a few chapters of this already written, so it has been a good thing to start off the creative flow again. This is still one giant heap of self-indulgent bullshit, but it's fun self-indulgent bullshit.
> 
> Two sort-of warnings:  
> 1\. Lots of semi-plausible sci-fi genetics is described in this chapter. Yay graduate level genetics and molecular biology courses!  
> 2\. Headcanon is also in this chapter, but is only a minor point.
> 
> And, as always, nothing Octopath belongs to me.

As per orders, Olberic had scheduled a follow-up appointment with his primary-care physician for ten days after his brief hospital visit, which coincided with the time he finished his antibiotics. However, his physician--Dr. Ogen--had pointedly left a call on his answering machine, detailing the date and time that Olberic was to arrive at his office for an appointment seven days early. It made Olberic uneasy. A doctor didn’t tell  _ you _ about an appointment without there being an… _ unpleasant _ …reason. 

_ It is likely nothing, _ he told himself as he sat in one of the waiting rooms at Dr. Ogen’s office, dressed in the uncomfortable medical gown and trying--and failing--to curb his uneasiness.  _ Or, if it is something, then probably nothing dire. I’ve survived worse injuries in war zones. It is nothing. _

More than one person thought Olberic daft for  _ choosing _ to see Dr. Ogen. The man came off as abrasive and unlikable; however, he had practiced medicine with Doctors Without Borders and seen some traumatic things that had tested his faith in people enough that he had a selective private practice--he really did care for his patients and people, he had merely been burned one time too often to be  _ polite _ .

"Been a while," Dr. Ogen said as he entered the examination room, pulling Olberic out of his idle mental meanderings.

"Fortunately," Olberic replied and shook his hand, not bothering to stand, as the man had quickly crossed the tiny room. 

"Saw you visited the hospital for wounds from a tangle with…” he checked his tablet, “...six shifters."

"I won."

Dr. Ogen shook his head disparagingly as he put on gloves. "Military.” 

“So, what did you want to see me for?” Olberic asked.

“What do you know about the biochemical basis for shifting?”

“What?” Olberic asked, frowning sharply. “Well, nothing, really. It wasn’t exactly part of the standard curriculum for the military, and I’ve never wanted to be a doctor.”

“Then let me explain a few things to you as I give your injuries a once-over,” Dr. Ogen said. “Are you able to put weight on your ankle reliably?”

“No. I know that strains and sprains take time to heal, but I have been  _ good _ about RICE and there still seems to be no improvement at all. I’ve even worked from home in an effort to have it heal as fast as possible.”

“If your records are right, you have survived some fairly traumatic injuries; I have no doubt that your body has a lot of old wounds that have healed over poorly, which makes newer ones more difficult to deal with,” Dr. Ogen pointed out. “You’re still keeping your wounds bandaged correctly?”

“Yes, sir,” Olberic responded. “The ones on my upper body still hurt a little bit, but the ones on my legs are only complaining a little. It’s odd how new injuries make old scars hurt, though.”

“The body remembers pain,” Dr. Ogen said. “Let me see your torso.”

Olberic did as requested and sat still as Dr. Ogen removed the bandages that Olberic had applied. 

“The  _ modern _ human body is an…evolutionary anomaly such that most of the medical profession doesn’t think that shifting is  _ natural _ , so to speak,” Dr. Ogen said as he unwound the bandages

“Not natural?” Olberic repeated, confused. “But, then, how can we do it at all?”

“According to medical records, before roughly 800 years ago, the typical human diploid count was 46. In me? That’s all I got. Straight 46, nothing more, nothing less. Among shifters, that diploid count varies  _ wildly _ . In dog shifters, the diploid count is 78. In some snake shifters, it’s 38. Hells, kangaroo shifters technically have only  _ sixteen _ . And yet, they all started with the human 46.” Dr. Ogen said. “The human chromosome count always ends up yielding to the animal one. Research has demonstrated that when combining two nuclei from separate, compatible life forms, the chromosomes from one end up dominating the other; nearly all of the time, the human was the one that ended up getting booted.”

“That…sounds complicated,” Olberic said carefully.

“It is. The odd thing is how the genes are  _ linked _ . With shifters, the human and whatever animal genes tend to…alternate, if you will. Instead of one completely subsuming the other, they almost seem to merge. Human genes end up encoded in the animal genes, or vice versa. This sometimes creates oddities where, oh, a wolf has a gene for this one thing, but there is no similar one in human genes. Or, what if there is a human gene that has no similar wolf gene? The body has to find a way to account for the lack or dearth of matching genetic material.”

A frown promptly etched itself on Dr. Ogen’s face as he examined the puncture wounds. “Just how big was the shifter who gave you these?”

The image of the wolf came back to Olberic with crystalline clarity, and his skin prickled slightly. “It was a wolf, but not quite. Most wolf shifters stand about 3 feet at the shoulder. This one was probably closer to four feet, and everything else was sized proportionally to that--body length, tooth length, musculature, and so on. Most wolves are built for endurance, but I would guess that this one was meant more for overwhelming force.”

“Would you now?” Dr. Ogen replied. “Then again, I suppose you would be knowledgeable, considering you grew up in a family of wolf shifters.”

Olberic gave Dr. Ogen a wary look. 

_ I don’t like that tone, _ Olberic thought as he nodded slowly. “So I did. But, that is what accounts for the increased size of puncture wound. It is healing as it should, right?"

“And you didn’t break a single bone?” Dr. Ogen asked, dodging the question.

Olberic shook his head. “I have broken enough bones that I know how to avoid doing so. It’s mostly just knowing the bite depth of a particular animal. It is dangerous to lose flesh and muscle, but as long as I still have support I can at least keep fighting.”

Dr. Ogen gave another soft sigh of  _ “Military _ ,” before saying louder, “Yes, well, good for you. Sit up a little further on the cot so I can look at your legs, will you?”

Olberic nodded and scooted up so Dr. Ogen removed the bandages from his (Olberic’s) legs. 

“Your leg puncture wounds are healing faster,” Dr. Ogen said as he examined the injuries. “But, they do seem like shallower bites." He paused. "I'm going to palpate a few places, and I want you to tell me if anything hurts."

Olberic nodded again. “I will.”

Olberic had a viciously high pain tolerance, but the tender points Dr. Ogen found were oddly placed and  _ hurt. _

“So, what the body does is make what has been termed ‘bridge’ genes,” Dr. Ogen said, picking up his lecture where he had left off. “Those are the genes that are responsible for the ability to shift. They...encode for certain enzymes that splice the genes and link them in very specific and fascinating ways. For reasons that no one understands in spite of centuries of research, when the dormant ‘animal’ genes are awoken in a child, the bridge gene activation goes into overdrive as a way to reconcile newly activated animal genes with human ones.” Dr. Ogen re-wrapped Olberic’s wounds after applying the appropriate ointments. "How has your grip strength been?"

"It has occasionally been a bit weak, but nothing substantial. I imagine it’s just a reaction to the bite wound." 

"How has your vision been? Sense of smell, hearing, etc.?"

"No blurring, no ringing, nothing that says I might have a concussion."

"Good,” Dr. Ogen murmured. “Tingling, numbness, or stiffness in your arms and legs?”

“Sometimes, but forced inactivity will do that,” Olberic replied. 

Dr. Ogen nodded slowly. “The appearance of the animal genes and the cells that express them, along with the ones that express the ‘bridge’ genes are seen as foreign to the body,” he continued. “That is why shifter children are so sickly off and on for about three years after their first exposure to the animal they will eventually be able to shift into. Their immune system is attacking their body because it thinks the new cells are non-self, and, thus, tries to eradicate them. By the time the first shift comes around, this duality of genetics has stabilized and the bridge genes are fully formed and integrated.”

“This is all very interesting, sir, but what does it have to do with me?” Olberic asked, irritation subsuming his worry.

“ I didn't quite believe the blood test results, but I should know better than to doubt Graham and his analyses."

"Sir?"

"Fine. I'll stop delaying and get to the point," Dr. Ogen said and caught and held Olberic's eyes. "Routine blood tests to check that nothing funky got into your system as a result of your scrap show that your shifter genetics have been activated _. _ ”

Olberic startled. “Excuse me?”

“Your bridge genes are being expressed,” Dr. Ogen repeated. “Congratulations, you’re a shifter.”

“But, that’s not possible," Olberic said, reflexively incredulous. "There have never been any cases of someone shifting after twenty-five.”

“No  _ documented _ cases,” Dr. Ogen corrected. “You know what this means, don’t you?”

“A lot of paperwork?” Olberic said, feeling oddly numb.

Dr. Ogen snorted. “Well, there is that. Things are actually more complicated than government forms, however."

"I'm not sure. Some government paperwork is brutal."

"I have no doubt," Dr. Ogen drawled.

"Yes, well...what would routine bloodwork have shown that was different?" Olberic asked after an uneasy silence. 

"Your white blood cell count was off the charts and there were some very specific antibodies floating around in your blood,” Dr. Ogen said. “Antibodies that have only ever been identified in children who were forced straight into a shift after a first exposure.”

“Come again?” Olberic said, his stomach dropping.

"Your body and your stubbornness fought off a forced shift," Dr. Ogen clarified. "However, because it was also your first exposure, your genetics are now playing catch up to make up for lost time and a skipped step, and I have absolutely no doubt that your body is going to tear itself to shreds over deciding what is and is not self as dormant genetics become active. So, you’re going to be dealing with one hell of an autoimmune disease until everything stabilizes, and the gods only know how long that will take. Even then, you’ll probably suffer for quite a few years after you shift, whenever and however  _ that _ happens.”

“Autoim--wait,  _ what _ ?” Olberic asked, trying and failing to wrap his mind around the news. “What does...what does it all  _ mean _ ?”

“It means you’re going to be sick for however long it takes your body to acclimate to your new genetic make-up. I’m not sure if rushing to get off your first shift will help matters, so I suggest waiting until you feel less like your own body hates you to try.”

“I can...I can still work, though, right?” Olberic asked. Work would at least retain  _ some _ stability in his life.

“You’re not contagious and it’s autoimmune, not immunodeficent, so I can’t see why not,” Dr. Ogen said. “Just know that you’re probably going to burn through your accumulated sick days.”

Olberic rubbed his eyes, apprehension and anger overwhelming any pleasure or awe he may have felt about being told he could  _ actually _ shift. “But... _ how _ ? My family...they tried everything possible to find the right wolf, and dogs and dog shifters are so common that I would have picked those up before. This isn't...”

Dr. Ogen shrugged and put a hand on Olberic’s good shoulder. “I’m sorry. But, I want you to know that I’ll be giving you the absolute best care I can, and I’m going to be bringing on the best immunologist I know—Dr. Graham Crossford. Between us, you’ll have top-tier care. It hurts to see a child sick, but every doctor knows that the sickness will pass--the less-developed immune system of a child actually helps them in this matter. You’re as healthy as they come with a stellar immune system. Life is going to be  _ miserable _ for you.” Dr. Ogen paused for a second before continuing, “I do have one last piece of news that you won’t like.”

“Oh?” Olberic said, weary. 

“There’s every possibility that this will kill you.”

“Come again?”

“Severity and length of immune response as well as which cells are being attacked can drastically affect the outcome and your survival,” Dr. Ogen continued. “And there’s no way to control an immune response without putting you on immunosuppressants, which won’t do much to help you anyway.”

Olberic ran his fingers through his hair and said, “There’s  _ no way _ that this can be possible. I’m not...my family would have  _ known _ \--they certainly watched me closely enough. I also haven’t come into contact with any unfamiliar shifter or animal, so there can’t have been any trigger.”

“Just how much detail can you provide me with regarding that wolf you fought?”

The image was immediately shoved to the front of Olberic’s mind, every single detail perfect, which made his stomach drop. “But, there are only two species of wolves alive! There’s no way that an entirely  _ new _ one would just appear without people knowing.”

“Unless it’s a genetic line that has been kept going in secret,” Dr. Ogen pointed out. “It’s not something I would put past the more  _ elitist _ shifters.”

“Holy hell,” Olberic growled and rubbed his eyes. “ _ Why _ ? I’m finally comfortable, finally accepted how my life is and will always be, and then  _ this _ ?”

“Sometimes bad things happen without reason. Like I said, I’ll do everything I possibly can to keep you alive and well, but it’s your body that eventually decides your fate, not me.”

A heavy silence fell in the room before Olberic sighed. “Well, thank you for being blunt and honest. I’d rather know than, well,  _ not _ .”

“I felt that would be the case.”

“Although...what do you think will happen if, after I go through everything, I still can’t shift because the exposure wasn’t long enough or some  _ nonsense _ ?”

“We’ll deal with the problem when we come to it,” Dr. Ogen said. “I want you to be hyper aware of  _ everything _ that is happening to your body--keep a journal of it, if just so I can arrange for the necessary accommodations and, if required, treatments, for you.”

A wash of anger and resentment flooded Olberic and he scowled at the floor. If there was one thing that he had always been able to count on, it was his body. He had never suffered through the usual childhood maladies, and always weathered the winter flu season with ease. The only reason he took sick days was to stave off exhaustion, as he was well aware that he worked too hard. It had been, to him, the one bright spot in being purely human.

“I guess I should be grateful that I’m on forced desk work because of my ankle,” Olberic said, keeping his voice as even as possible. “It will be a little harder to get rid of me if they don’t know how badly off I am.”

“We’re required to report new shifters, particularly adults,” Dr. Ogen said. “It’s meant to be a health and security measure, but I’m sure everything gets lost in the flood of information. Be aware, though, that it might not, so you might have people down your throat for different reasons.”

Olberic grimaced. “Lovely. They’re going to trust me even less now.”

“Just promise me that you won’t fight a first shift if it decides to happen somewhere public,” Dr. Ogen said. “The older shifters--the ones who are closer to 25--sometimes do, and that ends up with a feral shift because they fight the shift out of fear. It is better to shift, primarily because the majority of the people around you will be  _ happy _ for you and willing to protect you. I do suggest trying to sit down, though.”

"You think I will just spontaneously shift?"

"As said, most older shifters do, and since you fought off what should have been a forced shift, the likelihood is even greater."

"I see." Olberic was silent for a long time before he said, “Do you think, then, that maybe none of us are Duds? That the animal that we were meant to be is simply too rare, or one that we will never naturally come into exposure or contact with?”

“Researchers have considered that possibility before, but there is simply no ethical way to test it,” Dr. Ogen said. “But, you do seem to indicate that such can possibly be the case.”

“Wouldn’t it be funny if there are dinosaur shifters?”

“Okay, you’re moving into the panic stage,” Dr. Ogen said, frowning. 

“Panic?”

“You’re processing this news poorly, and I’m not surprised. I’ve dumped a lot on you and it requires a radical shift--no pun intended--in how you view yourself and your place in the world.”

“I…” Olberic let out a heavy sigh. “I suppose I am panicking a little bit to keep myself from being  _ angry _ .”

Dr. Ogen nodded slowly. “I’m sorry, Olberic.”

“It isn’t your fault,” Olberic said. “Although I do need to have a conversation with my mother.”

“Which may be as traumatic for her as for you,” Dr. Ogen pointed out. “So, if you do choose to do so, do it when you’re not in a mood.”

Olberic nodded. “I should get back to work. I can process all this later.”

“I suggest you call your Companion when you get the chance,” Dr. Ogen said. “He may be able to help as well.”

Olberic rubbed his eyes and said, “You’re right. Thank you, doctor. I appreciate it, even if it is a little much.”

“I wish I could help you more,” Dr. Ogen said.

“Getting back to work may help some,” Olberic said. “I’ll keep that journal, though, if just so you can tell me what I’m suffering from. The knowledge will at least make me feel like I have  _ some _ control.”

"Would you mind if I do a quick physical check? I would like to document where you are now so we know your baseline before everything becomes...further complicated."

Olberic nodded. "That sounds like a good plan."

About ten minutes later, Dr. Ogen finished the exam and his notes. “Try to take care of yourself, Olberic. If you need me, you know how to find me.”

Olberic gave him a weak smile. “I do.”

“Now, go get back to your work.”

Olberic’s smile became slightly more genuine at that. “Thank you, doctor.”

“You really shouldn’t,” Dr. Ogen said and gestured that Olberic leave before him.

Once Olberic was outside, he called Erhardt.

“Hello?” Erhardt answered, his voice sleepy.

“Did I wake you up?” Olberic asked, feeling slightly guilty.

“No, it’s fine,” Erhardt said. “You don’t know what timezone I’m in.”

“I can still call back later.”

“No, it’s really okay. I should be getting up anyway.”

“I think you’re going to be very awake after I tell you some very  _ interesting _ news I got from my doctor.”

“You’re pregnant?” Erhardt teased.

Olberic snorted. “No.”

“That’s too bad. We’d make beautiful children.”

“Perhaps, but I’m not sure that the world is ready for anyone who gets any kind of combination of our traits.”

“Stubborn as hell with a temper to match? Perhaps the world  _ is _ better off without any Eisenberg-Bastralles.”

A strong pang of longing ripped through Olberic. “Eisenberg-Bastralle, huh?”

“Bastralle-Eisenberg works, too, but it flows better the other way, in my opinion.”

“Do you...do you think we ever  _ will _ get married?” Olberic asked softly.

“I…” Erhardt hesitated for a long moment before saying, “I love you, Olberic Eisenberg and, one day, I  _ do _ plan to be your husband as well as your Companion. I don’t know when, but it’s going to happen.”

“Perhaps I should go ring shopping sooner rather than later, then,” Olberic murmured. “Because the news I have for you is far from good.”

“Oh?”

“During my scuffle a few days ago, I came into contact with a kind of wolf I’d never come across before--I only know this because it turns out that  _ that _ is the particular kind of wolf my genetics are tuned to. So, at age 35, it turns out i am a shifter."

"How is that bad news?" Erhardt said, cautious excitement in his voice.

"Because adapting to new genetics might kill me."

"...what?"

"There's a lot of biomedical jargon that I don’t fully understand, but, because shifter genes are different from my human only genes my immune system will think the shifter cells are foreign cells and try to kill them. Depending on how long the immune response goes on for and what cells are being attacked…"

"You just can't catch a break, can you?" Erhardt muttered. 

"It certainly seems that way."

"Well, I'm not going to let you go this alone. As soon as I finish up here, I'll be back in Victor's Hollow for however long it takes your body to adapt."

_ Well, that is awfully optimistic when I have no true reason to be so, _ Olberic thought. "You don't have to."

"I'm your Companion. As I am sure that your family would work hard to get you to shift, if just to find out exactly what kind of wolf you are, you won't be spending time with them. Your scent will be changing as it is, which will likely make a great many people upset. Better for me to be with you."

"I refuse to have you playing babysitter. I'm an adult, I can handle this."

"I know you can," Erhardt replied. "I still want to be with you for support and as a distraction."

Olberic smiled slightly at that. "Distraction, hm? How?"

"I can be quite inventive," Erhardt purred.

"I'm sure," Olberic responded as he navigated the streets, deftly avoiding collisions and pick-pockets. "How long do you think it'll be before you're here?"

"However long it takes, unfortunately," Erhardt responded. "But, I will let you know the minute I'm on my way. "

Olberic nodded, then said, "Thank you, Erhardt, truly." 

"I am your Companion," Erhardt said firmly. "I was not good at it before because we both caved to our families, but now… now it will be different. I love you, Olberic, and I'm not leaving you again." 

A wave of warmth flowed through Olberic and he found himself smiling. "I love you, too, Erhardt, and I want you to know that I will be there for you, too."

"I know," Erhardt replied warmly. "I'll see you in person as soon as I can. Stay safe, Olberic."

"You, too," Olberic answered before the line went dead.

Olberic looked at his phone, then sighed heavily.

_ My life is never easy, _ he thought.  _ How to break this to my team? _

Olberic slowly made his way back to his apartment, furiously thinking the entire time.

_ Do I even tell them at all?  _ Olberic wondered, for once not minding the cane that the doctors had insisted he use to keep weight off his ankle.  _ They don't technically need to know, and I'm not sure if it would worry them more or less. As it is, my scent will apparently be changing, and if that doesn't tip off two dog shifters that something is different, nothing will.  _

Olberic sighed.  _ And then there is the question of how I should deal with it all. Should I make sure my affairs are in order, just in case? Erhardt already knows, so I don't need to agonize over telling him, even though I most likely should have refrained. And, dear gods, the family reunion is in barely a month, what the hells is my family going to think? I should probably call my mother... _

With the prospect of either becoming an honest-to-gods shifter or  _ death _ looming, Olberic was confronted with a thousand things he had been sure he had another 60ish years to deal with, and had to take a few long, deep breaths to calm himself as he hailed a taxi to take him home.

_ One thing at a time, one foot in front of the other,  _ Olberic told himself as he settled into the taxi’s seat.  _ Just as it has always been. _


End file.
